


Industry

by charlolwut



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, Gen, Humour, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, except not really, the gang works in tv
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24762847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlolwut/pseuds/charlolwut
Summary: When Remus was offered a job editing a new television show, he wasn't expecting to be working with eccentric director James Potter, nor the highly irritating producer, Sirius Black, who won't leave his edit suite and acts very strange for a muggle.In which Remus Lupin is a well established television editor, and definitely not a wizard or a werewolf (except he definitely is).
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	1. Little Women and Werewolves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [storiesformuggles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesformuggles/gifts).



> _INT DRAWING ROOM_
> 
> _  
> _ _JO (SHE GRUMBLES)_
> 
> _Christmas night will have a full moon, so on top of no presents, we can’t go out. It’s fortunate we thought to have a Christmas play, so we could invite friends to stay overnight, or it would have been completely ruined._
> 
> _MEG_
> 
> _It’s so dreadful to be poor! And it’s a horror to have no father or brothers about to do heavy chores and protect us from the werewolves._

Remus looked down at the script, frowned, then back up at the screen:

> _AMY (WITH AN INJURED SNIFF)_
> 
> _Yes, I don’t think it’s fair for some girls to have lots of pretty things and other girls nothing at all._
> 
> _BETH (CONTENTEDLY)_
> 
> _We’ve got Mother, and each other, anyhow. And we can protect ourselves. Besides, Father is as sad as we that he cannot be here with us. And what does it matter that some girls have lovely clothes when they, just like us, must stay inside during a full moon? Remember that many of them don’t even have sisters, so they must shiver all alone in their pretty boots as they listen to the werewolves howl._

A sudden scraping of the chair next to him interrupted, and Remus stopped the show. Again.

“Sorry, Sirius, but you've really got to be quiet during this,” he said plainly.

“Yeah, yeah, I know”, replied Sirius, as he scrubbed a hand through his sleek hair, “It's just...should we use that other cutaway of Amy instead? She definitely gives a better performance in the other one.”

“Mm,” said Remus noncommittally.

“How about we give it a try? Try to work around the weird cross when we use that shot. Let me quickly make a note of what we’re changing, I’ll send it to James when he’s done shooting…”

“Mm,” said Remus again, already saving the project and duplicating his sequence. He titled the now old sequence with the date, pushing the keys harder than he normally would, and selected the new sequence. He stopped and looked at Sirius, who was already deep into his notes, fingers flying across the keyboard, his pen tucked behind his ear.

“Do I have time for a tea?” asked Remus.

“Sure, yeah.”

“Great,” said Remus, and made for the door, almost making it before he heard his producer whistle. He gripped the door handle and turned, smiling patiently. “Yes?”

“Mind making me one, yeah?”

Remus gritted his teeth. “Of course. I'll be back in ten minutes.”

“Cool, thanks,” replied Sirius, not looking up from his screen.

‘Ten minutes,’ thought Remus wryly as he closed the door and walked down the corridor to the kitchenette, ‘I'll eat my socks if this cut is finished within the hour.’

***

The job had arrived on his doorsteps the day after the last full moon. After a dry winter spell of no productions, Remus had exhausted all of his contacts and was finally running low on funds; though the last job had paid well, it had only lasted a couple of months, and had made him settle in London. His flat was tiny, but the location was good, so rent was high. Remus had limped down his stairs that morning, his mind still on the budget he was drawing up for himself, and picked up the Prophet, before heading to his computer to look for jobs. The search turned up one result, and it looked promising:

 **EDITOR WANTED FOR HIGH END BBC DRAMA.** **  
** **Contact Sirius Black for more details:** [ **sirius.black@bbc.co.uk** ](mailto:sirius.black1@bbc.co.uk)

He’d blinked, shocked by the simplicity of it, and fired off an email with his CV attached. He’d promptly forgotten about it until his ringing phone woke him up the next morning.

“Mmf-hello?” he’d said sleepily.

“Hi, is this Remus Lupin? I’m calling from the BBC to offer you the job,” said the tinny voice on the line.

Remus had sat up, instantly awake. “You don’t want to interview me first?”

The voice had laughed. “Your CV was enough; we researched you after reading it and only found glowing reviews, Mr Lupin.”

“Okay,” Remus had replied, unsure, “Great, when do I start?”

“Come in tomorrow morning and we’ll go over your paperwork and discuss your wage,” said the voice, and then, perhaps hearing Remus’ subtle intake of breath, added reassuringly, “Not to worry, My Lupin, the pay is very good. See you tomorrow at reception. I’ll send an email with the address and time. Goodbye.”

And with that, he’d gotten a job.

When Remus started his first day, he was wary and confused - why on earth had nobody else applied when the pay was apparrently excellent? Perhaps the crew were notoriously rubbish, or it was a boring script. As it turned out, it was none of those. At the head of the entire production was an up and coming director, James Potter, and the crew consisted of his entourage and fresh faced kids straight out of uni, eager and excited to be a part of a high end drama. The script was ridiculous: a new take on Little Women, involving death and carnage via werewolves (and wasn’t that just typical). Remus had wrinkled his nose in distaste when he was first given the script, and the line producer had laughed at him.

“Yeah, we see that face a lot,” she’d said, “But I promise you, it’s better than it looks. James always manages to pull these weird ideas off.”

Not entirely convinced, Remus had taken the script home that night and read it all. It completely butchered the classic, turning the whole story on its head in lieu of gore and drama. But, thought Remus as he nursed a butterbeer while reading the last couple of pages, it wasn’t half bad. He’d actually heard of Potter, had read about him in some recent television magazine; it had fascinated reviews of the weird and wonderful things that came out of his work, and Remus had to agree. Potter’s films were full of diversity, shocks that would startle the hardest viewers, and he tended to hire students to work under the heads of departments, quoting: “They have the energy and passion, why wouldn’t I want them?”

And so, Remus had started his second day with a newfound excitement, one he hadn’t felt since he started training to become an editor. The story still didn’t sit right with him, for obvious reasons, but he was working with muggles, so theoretically the worst that would happen would be the personal questions about his scars. He was happy, and looking forward to working. 

It lasted for all of half an hour.

“Sorry,” said Remus anxiously, his hand still on the open door, “Who are you?”

“Working,” replied the man, waving his hand and not looking up from his computer screen.

“Right,” said Remus, and paused. He considered his options, and then continued, “I’m sorry, but I was told I was meant to be working in here.” He looked at the setup in front of him: a brand new edit station, Avid already open and the rushes organised, ready to start cutting with. “I’m pretty certain, anyway.”

The man looked up. His blue eyes were almost piercing, and they narrowed susceptibly, looking Remus up and down. “Ah,” he said finally, smiling, “You must be our new editor. I’m Sirius, I’m the producer.” He stood up and offered his hand. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Likewise,” said Remus, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake.

“Sorry for stealing your seat, I’ll grab one from the other room and just set up in the corner here,” said Sirius, businesslike. He shuffled his papers into something resembling neat and left the room, presumably to get a chair.

It wasn’t really normal for the producer to sit in the edit, unless there was a viewing, but Remus took it in his stride, under the impression that Sirius would leave at lunchtime and had only used the edit suite as a spare room to work in. He was wrong. When Sirius came back, scraping a chair behind him, he’d remained there, typing noisily on his laptop and occasionally looking up at Remus’ screen and commenting on a cut that didn’t look right to him. It infuriated Remus, who was used to sitting in a darkened room by himself, quietly experimenting with his edit. 

When it hit 6’o’clock, Remus started to gather up his things. “Thanks for a good day,” said Sirius, still clacking away on his keyboard. “Got a lot done.”

“Uh, yeah,” said Remus absently, “Thanks.”

He heard Sirius’ chair scrape and suddenly Sirius was standing beside him, a perfectly packed backpack in hand, the laptop packed away. Remus squinted. What?

“I’ll walk out with you,” said Sirius, smiling, “I think we live near each other.”

“How do you know where I live?” asked Remus, looking sideways at him.

Sirius looked back at him oddly. “I read your CV.”

“Oh,” said Remus, and ended up walking home with Sirius, only getting off two stops after him on the Tube.

The rest of the week went the same way: Remus arrived at work to find Sirius already in the room, his corner a mess of papers and oddly flavoured sweets that seemed to change colour whenever Remus looked away; the two of them walking home late at night, discussing the day’s work and sometimes learning new facts about each other. Through these talks was how Remus found out that Sirius had attended boarding school with James Potter and his wife, Lily, and Peter Pettigrew; he’d been in a terrible band with them before deciding to go into television, and owned a black motorbike for which he had the highest praise. Remus would try to remember these facts, remember that Sirius was also a human being with thoughts and feelings and hobbies, when Sirius was frustratingly nitpicky with everything to do with the episodes and it was all Remus could do to not strangle him. 

“Don’t use that music, it's rubbish,” said Sirius offhandedly on the Friday, “Oh, also there’s crew drinks tonight. You coming?”

“What?” replied Remus distractedly, deleting the music track and searching his library for something similar, but not _rubbish_. 

“Crew drinks down at the Vittoria. You’re coming right?” said Sirius, sounding almost hopeful. 

He couldn’t really afford drinks until his first paycheck came in, but a couple of beers to get to know the rest of the crew he hadn’t yet met would be good for his career. 

“Sure,” replied Remus, continuing on his hunt for music that met the 'not rubbish" requirements expected of it, “I’ll walk there tonight with you.”

He heard Sirius let out a strangled laugh, and he looked at him, puzzled. 

“Sorry,” said Sirius, grinning, “Yeah, I’ll show you the way.”

“Great.”

***

The walk to the pub was a quick one, too chilly to walk slow and both men still unsure of each other. In the pub, Remus had settled down next to a couple of ADs he knew from a previous show he'd worked on and chatted pleasantly to them over his first beer, but he'd watched Sirius immediately join Peter Pettigrew and the two Potters, and the four of them had stuck together like glue for the rest of the night, with Peter occasionally running up to the bar to buy rounds for his camera team. But, with promises to stay late and get smashed at the wrap party, most people left relatively early. James and Lily had stood up to leave only an hour after arriving to go home and let their babysitter finish for the day; Peter stayed another ten minutes to finish his drink and left just as promptly, not citing a reason. By ten o'clock, the last of the camera team had stumbled out of the door, and with them the lone soundie and a couple of the costume girls. Remus looked at the last men standing: himself, Sirius and a couple of green, overly eager runners who had no idea who they were. He smiled weakly at them and finished off his second beer quickly.

“Sorry, I'd best be going now too. It was lovely to meet you all,” he said, as he pushed away from the table and started gathering the empty glasses together into a neat pile for the pub employees.

“I'll come with you,” said Sirius quickly, standing up.

Remus looked sideways at him and had to hold back a laugh at the panic on Sirius' face. He must have felt just as awkward being left alone with the runners as Remus was.

“Alright, let's go,” said Remus, rather benevolently he thought.

Sirius pushed the rest of the glasses haphazardly to the neat corner Remus had created, spilling a little in his hurry. They started walking towards the exit, and had just made it out of the door before Sirius grabbed Remus' elbow and pulled him sharply left.

“Wha-excuse me?!” cried Remus indignantly. He tried to yank his arm back, but Sirius was stronger than he looked and kept a tight grip.

“I'm not staying in there with the babies,” muttered Sirius, “But I'm sure as hell not going home yet.” He paused and seemed to take note of himself, looking back at Remus a bit abashed. “Fancy hanging out a bit more, Lupin?”

“I, uh-” stammered Remus, “Yeah, alright, um.”

“Great!” said Sirius brightly, and he took Remus by the arm again and directed him over to the corner of the pub garden.

They both sat heavily in the iron chairs, Sirius' scraping against the concrete. Remus looked around: it was dark, and musty, with overgrown plants softly brushing against their shoulders; it smelled like rubbish, and cold air, and late night cigarette drags. And it was cold, bitterly cold. Wrapping his arms around himself, he wished he could cast a warming charm, but there was no way it would be indiscreet enough to perform in front of a muggle.

Suddenly, the click of a lighter, and a familiar smell washed over him.

“It that-?” asked Remus, trying to peer closer at the joint Sirius now held in his hand. It was so dark it was hard to tell what was in it.

“Pot. You want some?” asked Sirius easily.

“Um.”

“I take it you don't smoke then. I'm not surprised,” said Sirius with a bark of laughter, and bought the joint to his lips to inhale.

Remus swallowed, unsure how much to give away. Would Sirius judge him for smoking it, or judge him for not smoking it? It seemed like an unnecessary gamble to take with his colleague; would Sirius tell James? Remus couldn't afford to get fired.

“Um. I've smoked in the past for...medicinal purposes,” said Remus slowly, “I don't smoke tobacco though, so I'll pass for now, thanks.”

Sirius looked at him strangely. “Nor do I, it's just weed, I promise.”

He offered it again. Leaning across the table. Remus dithered for a second, and then took it almost compulsively. It had been a while, as he hadn't been able to afford it during the dry winter, but his body knew what it was doing and before he was even thinking about it he inhaled, swallowing the smoke down.

“Nice, yeah?” said Sirius, as he took his spliff back and rested the hand holding it on the table. He was lounging gracefully, with an easy smile playing on his face. He looked so cocky and sure, if Remus hadn't stared straight at it earlier he might have thought such an abashed expression on Sirius' aristocratic face impossible.

“Yeah, not bad,” replied Remus, a little hoarse. He wasn't sure if it was psychological, but he could feel a pleasant faint brush over him, and his eyes felt a little heavier already.

“Didn't really cop you for this, if I'm honest,” said Sirius, taking another puff. “Thought you're a little too stuck in the mud for this sort of stuff.”

Remus bit back his first response, and instead steadily said, “I like to think I'm not as intense when I'm not working.”

“That wasn't an insult,” said Sirius, looking a little offended, “It's more a compliment if anything. I didn't think you were the destructive type.”

“But you consider yourself to be the destructive type?”

“Yeah, well,” started Sirius. He stopped, and transferred his gaze from Remus to the spliff he was loosely holding. “I've done some destructive things, I like to think I'm a bit of a bad boy by now.” He looked up and grinned conspiratorially. “Don't you get that vibe from me? Am I not giving it enough?”

“No,” replied Remus, amused, “I think you've got it down pat, you don't need to milk it. Would give across the opposite effect, I think.”

“Yeah, the whole weedy-nerd-trying-too-hard thing, I see it,” laughed Sirius, shaking sparks. “Definitely not the look I'm going for. You could rock that though!”

“I think I'm pretty much there,” said Remus, feeling more relaxed. “Never really been the conforming type. Always had something holding me back. So I always overcompensate. And,” he felt oddly disjointed, “I don't know. Sorry.”

Sirius looked back up at him, and Remus felt a jolt at the intensity of his gaze.

“I get you. Sort of,” said Sirius, “I mean, the last bit didn't really make sense. But, you know, if it helps, I'm a bit of a black sheep too. M' family's not too keen on me, see.”

“What did you do?” asked Remus, feeling brave. It was a bit of a personal question, but...

“I bloody exist, is what,” said Sirius roughly, “I'm just not like them; I've sort of gone my own way.”

Remus stayed quiet, and let them silence wash over them. He wasn't sure when this had turned from crew drinks to a heart to heart, but he wasn't the type to turn away from a man in need, and he just so happened to be a great listener, so he stayed quiet and still, and waited for Sirius to continue.

“Sorry,” said Sirius finally, running a hand through his hair, “I actually can't talk about this stuff, there's some things that you wouldn't understand. Not,” he added hurriedly, “Not because I think you've stupid or anything, because you're the opposite of that really, but because it's stuff the mugg-normal people don't even know about, y'know?”

'That was strange' thought Remus, and replayed that last sentence in his head again. The oddly coloured sweets came to mind, and the backpack packed so quickly he didn’t hear a thing. He studied Sirius intently. “Normal people?”

Sirius' face seemed to stutter in the dark. “Yeah, normal people. Again, not an insult, I'm just saying my family's a bit-”

“I'm not a complete cock, Sirius, you don't have to keep explaining yourself,” said Remus, smiling. “I was just wondering what made your family so...abnormal.”

“Oh, lots,” replied Sirius, and the relief on his face turned sour as he continued, “Lots and lots. Just the biggest bunch of bigoted, self-entitled bastards you could possibly meet.”

He had to be sure.

“Is there a history of...darkness in your family?” asked Remus carefully.

“Yeah,” said Sirius slowly, uncertainly, “Yeah, almost a sort of, maybe, dark magic thing about them...”

Remus stared. He was a Black. Of the Blacks. He took a deep breath.

“Are you-?”

“Remus, do you know mag-?”

“Can I just say, if you ask me what I think you're going to ask me-”

“Then it's a severe breach of the statute of secrecy?”

“That's also a severe breach!”

Sirius let out a loud bark of laughter. “What the fuck, Lupin?! You mean I could have summoned my fucking coffee every morning and you wouldn't have batted an eye?!”

“You didn't say, so I-”

“You didn't say either!” shouted Sirius exuberantly, “Shit, James and Pete'll love this!”

“Wait, James Pot-!”

“Yep!”

Remus felt overwhelmed. He couldn't stay. He had to go, he had to leave Sirius right now and send in his resignation.

“Hey, Remus, you alright...?”

He felt dizzy. Panic bubbled up. He couldn't stay. They'd know, they were wizards, they'd figure it out eventually. They'd know what he is.

“Remus??”

He was a fucking idiot taking on this job. Of course the weirdest television series shooting right now would be one directed by wizards. Potter had come out of the woodwork, a complete unknown rising to stardom, an auteur with his modernised, monster filled period pieces, his wife always attached as his writer, and his Director of Photography trailing his heels on every film. Pettigrew never took another job, film magazines loved pointing out that fact. Potter and Pettigrew and Black. All working together in close proximity to werewolf Remus John Lupin. The headlines that could make.

“I've got to go,” said Remus suddenly. He swayed when he stood, and the world swum sickeningly.

“Hey, have you whitied? Do you need a hand?” asked Sirius, concern lacing his smooth voice. He reached out, but Remus recoiled, acutely aware of the recognisable scars on his arms should Sirius pull even the slightest bit of his cuff up.

“No, no, I'm fine, m' just a bit shocked is all,” stammered Remus, zipping up his coat hurriedly, catching his fingers in the zip, “I'll see you on Monday.”

Without waiting for a reply, Remus turned on his heel and briskly walked back to the pub's exit, and strode out into the night.

***

Monday arrived far too quickly. All weekend, Remus had written and rewritten drafts of a resignation letter anxiously. The ink had stained his fingertips blue, but he supposed it didn't matter any more – he didn't have to explain his oddities to a fellow wizard after all. Everything in him told him to run, it was common sense, and yet he dithered, teetering on the edge of indecision. If he left without a proper notice, not only was it suspicious as hell but he'd struggle getting another job. The industry was built around who you knew, not what you knew. He was a damn good editor, but if he got a bad reputation then that was it for him. It was either go back to the fringes of wizarding society, or find a different career. But if he didn't quit, he'd be fired within a matter of months. He'd never had to make a decision like this before; he'd assumed (wrongly apparently) that everyone in the television industry were muggles.

So Monday found him walking into the building warily, his hand tight on his satchel strap. He gave a small smile to the receptionist, and pulled on his lanyard to scan his ID and enter through the gates. It gave a loud beep, and Remus froze. 

“You alright, mate?” called the receptionist, as he started walking over. 

Remus shook his head, his mouth dry. 

“Don’t worry about it,” said the receptionist, scanning his own lanyard, “Happens occasionally. Pop down on your lunch and I’ll have a gander, see what's caused that. Go on through, Mr Lupin.”

“Thanks,” mumbled Remus and passed through the gate. His stomach hurt, he could feel his anxiety building up. Normally he’d grab a coffee from the canteen on his way to his desk, but he wasn’t sure whether he could keep it down this morning. 

“Morning!”

Remus startled and put a hand over his chest. He looked up through his fringe to see his bespectacled, messy-haired director grinning at him. 

“Sorry,” said James Potter, not sounding very sorry at all, “I can be a bit loud in the mornings, I’ve been told. Didn’t mean to make you jump.”

“Not a problem,” replied Remus, a bit lightheaded. He moved to go to his edit suite, but James stood blocking the way. Remus paused and took a breath.

“Am I-?”

“Thought I’d join you today, seen how episode 2 is looking,” said James, bouncing on his feet. His normally brown skin was flushed red, and he looked for all the world like a toddler opening his Christmas presents. 

“Right,” said Remus. He waited.

“Right!” James agreed, and stood aside to let Remus pass. “You first!”

“Right,” said Remus again, uncertainly. He passed James, opened the door to his edit suite and…

Was instantly hit in the face with a chocolate frog. 

“Surprise!” shouted Sirius, looking just as excited as James. 

“Um.”

“Obviously-!” started James.

“We had to celebrate this somehow,” continued Sirius.

“I knew it, I told him so-”

“He did not, he was just as shocked as I was when I told him last night-”

“Pete almost fainted!” finished James jubilantly, sounding altogether too happy. 

“Um,” said Remus again. He looked at the chocolate frog on the floor. “Um.”

“Sirius, old friend,” said James, looking a bit worried now, “Were you joking? Is this a prank?”

Sirius laughed. “No, I think he’s just shocked, Jamesy.”

“Are you shocked? Are you just as surprised as us?” asked James, leaning closer and prodding Remus’ shoulder. 

“Mm,” said Remus, bewildered. Did they not...were they not…?

“Um, well,” said Remus finally, “It was definitely a shock. Um. Why on earth are you-?”

“In the muggle film business?” said James, grinning, “It’s fun!”

“It has its own magic,” said Sirius firmly.

“Ah, yes,” said James, looking sideways at his friend, “Yes, it does, and it’s very different to what’s expected of us, which means of course Sirius wanted to do it, which means I have to bloody fund everything even though he’s the bloody producer-”

“You’ve got execs to deal with that, I’m just the paperwork guy!” shouted Sirius, looking quite affronted. 

“It’s a sensitive topic for him,” finished James, turning back to Remus and smiling gently. “What about you?”

Remus startled. He took a breath. “It-it just comes naturally to me. My mothers a muggle, so I grew up with films and-”

He petered out, half expecting James and Sirius to finish off the thought for him, but they just looked at him, with genuine interest on their faces. 

“So, yeah”, finished Remus halfheartedly. Finally shaken out of his shock, he started to move towards his chair to turn the monitor on. 

“That’s it?” asked Sirius, looking a bit nonplussed.

“That’s fine,” said James loudly, “Excellent reason.”

Remus looked at the director, who had settled himself down onto the plush leather sofa and had opened a chocolate frog box. Remus watched him rip it open and look at the attached card, before throwing the card back onto the pile and digging into the chocolate. He noticed Remus looking at him, and grinned.

“Sorry, do you collect?” he asked, “It was Aldabert Waffling. I’ve found about a hundred of him, I just need Ptolemy now, but he’s so damn rare.”

“No,” said Remus shortly, “Thank you though. Did you want to watch through the episode first, or do you have notes from yesterday’s export?”

James widened his eyes. “Shit, no, I forgot to watch that.” He shook his messy curls. “We’ll just watch it all now, first impressions and that.”

He rattled the box of chocolate frogs at Sirius, who shook his head, and shrugged, taking another one for himself. “It’s a good job Peter isn’t here,” he said round a mouthful of chocolate, “These’d be gone by now. Hey, look!” 

Remus looked away from the login screen to see James waving another chocolate frog card around.

“Carlotta Pinkstone!” he said, and started reading the blurb on the card, “‘Famous campaigner for lifting the International Confederation of Wizard’sp Statute of Secrecy and telling non-magical folks that wizards still exist. Ms. Pinkstone has been imprisoned several times for her blatant and deliberate use of magic in public places.’ Maybe she’s got the right idea, this whole fiasco wouldn’t have happened if we’d known you were a wizard from the start, Remus.”

“I wouldn’t really call it a fiasco, James,” said Sirius, looking amused, “More of an accident. Anyway, I’m pretty sure Pinkstone’s a loony. Last I heard, she started flinging random muggles around in Kensington Gardens. Flipendos everywhere.”

“Oh yeah, that’s true,” muttered James, mouth still full of chocolate.

Remus thought it lucky that magical folk thought Pinkstone’s ideals too extreme; if muggles knew he was a werewolf too, he’d be doomed. Feeling too anxious to be amused, he turned back to his screen to find the latest cut. He fiddled with the sound settings and the monitors, briskly going through the motions, like clockwork. 

“Are we ready?” said Sirius, arms crossed, looking expectant. 

“Yeah,” replied Remus, “Yeah, all good.” 

He pressed play. 

***

James left at lunchtime, trailing chocolate frogs and notes in his wake. So many notes. Remus looked through the list, almost losing his polite frown to a downright scowl at the pointless nitpicks on it. 

“Sorry about that,” said Sirius apologetically, noticing the black cloud looking over his editor, “For the notes and for the whirlwind that is James Potter.”

“No, it’s fine,” muttered Remus, smoothing out the list in front of him and looking for the first timecode, “The chocolate was nice.”

Sirius smiled. “Yeah. I wasn’t sure if you were a chocolate fan at first, but-”

“Oh, I love chocolate,” said Remus absently, “The best cure for any ailment.”

“I was only taught that works for Dementors,” replied Sirius, the word ‘Dementors’ rolling out of his mouth with confidence, sounding almost cocky.

Remus looked up from his keyboard, his fingers still typing out the first timecode, and frowned. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Enjoying what?”

“Us being wizards.”

Sirius blinked at him. “I wouldn’t say being a wizard is my favourite hobby, but it’s certainly nice to not have to hold myself back.”

“I suppose,” replied Remus, going back to the screen.

“You seem to be almost too good at it, if I’m honest,” said Sirius interestedly.

“Practice.”

Sirius leaned closer. “Practice for what?”

“Well,” said Remus, not really thinking, “I’ve been in the muggle world a long time.”

Sirius blanked. “Why?”

“Hm?”

“Why have you been living as a muggle? Really? It can’t be just because your mum likes films. I’d be a horrible dictator by now if I did what my mum liked.”

Remus smiled; he couldn’t help it. “Yes, well, not everyone’s mothers were into fascist regimes.”

“Ha,” replied Sirius, smiling wryly, “But seriously, there must be another reason.”

There was a long, pregnant pause.

“No other reason,” said Remus, and set his eyes back on the long list of notes, “I’ve got to concentrate now, sorry.”

“Oh,” replied Sirius, sounding slightly disheartened and probably looking like a kicked puppy, though Remus refused to check, “No worries. I’ll be on my emails. Let me know if you need me.”

One decisive click of the mouse, and the room was flung back into work mode. ‘Let me get through this day,’ thought Remus, quietly and nervously, clicking quickly through his timeline, ‘Let me get through this day and it might be okay.’ 

The rest of the afternoon passed in relative quiet, Sirius wading through the backlog of emails and Remus reminding himself to look out of the window every twenty minutes to ease his eyes from the screen. It was slightly warm in the room, even with the window open, and Remus squirmed under his heavy jumper. If Sirius was a muggle, he’d have taken it straight off and held off any questions about his scars with relative ease. He glanced at Sirius and swallowed as he noticed the concentration on his producer’s face. Sirius’ concentration face was odd; Remus was aware that his own concentration face was ridiculous, his mouth dropped open and his eyes glazed over, but Sirius’? Sirius’ was odd in the way that it wasn’t. He looked clever, and calculating, and handsome? Remus shook his head and looked back at the screen. ‘It might be safe,’ he thought to himself as he rolled up his sleeves, ‘Just for a moment.’ 

Soon, the orange light of the 6’o’clock glow started dripping into their room, and Sirius stretched, his long limbs catlike. He yawned, twice for good measure, and made a show of looking at the time. He looked up and grinned. “Hey. Are you almost done?”

Remus startled, he hadn’t realised he’d been staring. He cleared his throat and tried not to stammer. “Yep, yes. Yeah, almost there. Just a couple of trims left to make.”

Sirius nodded. “Cool, okay. James wants another look at it tonight, is that feasible? Are you able to stay late?”

“...yeah,” This was the third time he’s stayed late since the job started last week. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Sirius frowned. “Because if it’s not, that’s fine. We don’t want you overworking.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” shouted Remus, then pinched his nose. “Sorry, I'm a bit stressed. I can set off the export, and get one of the edit assistants to send it out, no problem.” 

“Ok,” replied Sirius, still frowning. He exhaled shortly, like a dog huffing, then stood and crossed the room. He started rifling through the chocolate frogs. “I’m going to take a couple of these, there’s loads left for you, Mr Wonka.”

As tightly strung as he felt, Remus smiled. “You said I’m good at pretending to be a muggle. You’ve fully immersed yourself into the culture.”

“Ah, ah, ah!” protested Sirius, through chocolate stained lips, “I won’t take that kind of abuse! I pride myself on being a shit muggle.” He waved his hand nonchalantly. “It just so happens that James’ kid is going through a Charlie and The Chocolate Factory phase. Lily loves the author.”

“You should read more of his stuff,” said Remus, “I’m fairly certain he was a wizard, just hidden like us.”

Sirius perked up at that. “Really?”

“Well, his books star witches, giants, talking creatures,” replied Remus, ticking through on his fingers, “Potions, too! And all fairly accurate depictions.”

Sirius cackled. “Ooooh that’d show Lily, she thinks she’s all high and mighty lording over Sirius Black with her muggle knowledge.”

A sly idea grew in Remus’ head. “You know who actually describes muggle culture very well?”

“Whose that then?”

“Dr Seuss.”

Sirius looked nonplussed. “Isn’t that a kids writer too?”

“Yeah,” said Remus confidently, “But he’s educational. He teaches lessons through rhymes. If you want to one-up Lily, take notes from Dr Seuss’ books and teach her the lessons he teaches you. She’ll be too stunned to out muggle you.”

Sirius nodded his head slowly, a smirk on his face, looking too much like a Disney villain. “Yes...yeah, okay, I’ll read them. Which book first?”

“Try green eggs and ham, it’s a great recipe.”

***

20:03 : you’re a dickhead

20:05 : Did you like Dr Seuss?

20:06 : i made harry green eggs and ham

20:10 : How did you make the eggs green?

20:11 : food dye. but obviously he puked it up and then i had to explain to lily i was treating him to a tradition muggle cuisine

20:13 : Oh, this is good. 

20:14 : you’re a dickhead

20:16 : This dickhead is going to sleep. Goodnight.

20:17 : night

20:25 : see you tomorrow 

20:45 : im gonna get you for this lupin

20:50 : night

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a gift for storiesformuggles bc she loves a bit of wolfstar and i love a bit of her
> 
> turns out working in tv isn't enough, and i have to force the boys into our career too. sorry! 
> 
> blitzed this out in a couple of days, sorry for any mistakes.
> 
> i'm thinking this is going to be about 3-4 chapters long, so stick around! :)


	2. Secrets and Dogs

_ MARMEE (GENTLY) _

_ People are afraid, and they are selfish. They cannot see what it’s like to be another, to live as a werewolf with a need for human meat. And because they are the werewolves’ prey, they vilify the poor creatures and view them as purely evil. I think, although most citizens disapprove of the Brigade’s tactics, they yet view it as necessary. _

_ BETH  _

_ If only the whole world had Father’s generous outlook! _

_ MARMEE _

_ If that were the case, he would be here by our sides because there would be no war either against werewolves or against each other. _

It was quiet in the room except for the gentle clicking of Remus’ mouse. Lunchtime had come and gone, and the soft sunlight leaked into the darkened room, and Remus’ bones hurt. 

He autosaved the project and leant back in his chair, satisfied with the edit. He’d just finished his offline cut for the first episode, in spite of the hugeness of James’ expectations, and Sirius still lingered. He wasn’t half as bad as he was near the beginning, and Remus had gotten used to his quirks and the promised cups of summoned coffees, but it was still bizarre to have his producer sit in on the edit constantly. It just wasn’t done. And yet, Remus thought as the door opened, here he is. 

“Got an extra panini if you want it,” said Sirius, striding in to take his usual place in the corner, “I think the shop lady fancies me.”

I don’t doubt it, thought Remus wrly. He smiled and took the proffered panini, setting it aside on his desk. Sirius’ eyes followed him. 

“Not hungry?” he asked, face pinched slightly. 

“Not right now,” replied Remus. Any hunger he felt was taking a backseat to the gradual ache in his limbs. He stood up, knees creaking. “Actually, I’m going to leave early, if that’s okay. Episode one is finished. I hope,” he added, smiling a little despite himself. 

Sirius was quiet. 

“Is that okay?” 

“Yeah, sure, course,” said Sirius, and he opened his mouth as if to say something else, but then shook his head. “Of course.” He paused. “Want me to walk you home? Sorry! No, sorry, want me to walk home with you?”

Remus laughed at the pink blush creeping up on Sirius’ face. “Very romantic of you. But I have prior engagements tonight, sorry.” 

“What’re you doing?” asked Sirius.

“Seeing my mother,” replied Remus instantly. It was an old excuse, but it worked fairly consistently. “She’s ill.” 

“Oh”, said Sirius, and then: “What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s just a bit under the weather,” said Remus vaguely, packing up his things with his wand, which he’d started to take to work with him because he’d seen Sirius twiddling his own wand around in front of muggles, real muggles, to no questions. He put a warming charm on the wrapped panini, hoping it would still be good for the next day. If he made it in. 

“Oh”, said Sirius again. He seemed to think for a moment. “Well, I hope she feels better soon.”

Remus nodded and shouldered his backpack. He smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” said Sirius. “See you tomorrow.”

The door opened with a flourish of Sirius’ wand, a polite gesture, and Remus murmured a thank you and walked through, and kept walking until he reached his safehouse and the full moon rose in the sky and he knew no more.

***

Remus woke to pain and, unusually, a great black barn owl pecking angrily at the window. He groaned and cast his eyes about for the clock he kept high upon the wooden bars of the ceiling. 8:30am. His heart pounded painfully; he must have slept through the alarm. But, he thought as he looked back at the impatient owl, he wasn’t too late. He could be up and ready for work in half an hour, easily. Except as he made to get up, his body protested.

“Shit,” he muttered, holding a hand tight to his ribs. He must have bruised them last night. His right cheekbone ached too; he could picture the werewolf throwing himself at the barn doors last night. He looked at the clock again, thinking. Normally he’d be forcing himself upright, chugging a couple of pain potions and heading into work. But...Sirius wouldn’t mind, would he? The episode was finished last night, and today was a Friday; they normally went home early on Fridays anyway. Surely just one day off wouldn’t hurt?

The owl pecked harder, starting to squark now. Gritting his teeth, Remus forced himself up off of the floor anyway and limped over to the window to let in the bird, feeling his knees crack with each step. The window flung open instantly when Remus opened the lock, and the owl flew in and made itself at home on Remus’ outstretched arm. Grimacing a little, he took the small roll of parchment from the owl’s leg and shook his arm, sending it flying away again indignantly. 

_ James said to take today off _ , it said in Sirius’ looping handwriting,  _ How’s your mum? I’ve got some things that might help. Lily’s a potion extraordinaire, her Pepper-Ups are legendary. Shall I come round in a few hours? - SB _

Of course - Sirius knew his home address from his CV. Although how his owl managed to find Remus in his safehouse was beyond him; both owl and house elf magic was something that wizards had never figured out. But, as thoughtful as it was, Sirius couldn’t come round. Not unless Remus thought of a solid excuse. He could have been in a fight, he thought, although that didn’t really tie in with the mild mannered editor he’d been trying to portray. He could have been mugged. Now there’s an idea, thought Remus. He ignored the fact that he’d normally just turn Sirius down; there was a pleasant feeling of having a friend that clearly cared about him. He knew he was risking it, but if he could make it to his mum’s house and explain the situation to her, there would be two of them to corroborate the story. 

Steeling himself, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the three Ds to apparate. Destination, Determination, Deliberation, he thought sternly, and twisted his body, determined to find home. 

He landed roughly on the grassy patch outside the doorstep and vomited instantly. Scrunching his eyes shut, he waited for the swirling inside him to disappear. He heard the door open and a shadow came over him.

“Remus?” his mum asked, voice laced with concern. “What are you doing here?”

He leaned back slowly, wary of his still tender stomach, and smiled up at his mum. “‘Ello.”

Hope Lupin frowned, but turned to call for her husband, then bent to help Remus stand. “What on earth are you doing travelling so soon after the moon, Remus, you know it’s not-”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just-” said Remus, interrupting before the words were in his head, “I just-I have a favour to ask.”

*****

By the time there was a knock at the door, Remus was settled in the armchair with a bag of frozen peas held against his swollen cheek and a steaming cup of tea by his side. At the sound of the knock, his mum cast her son a weary look, but took her place beside him diligently, settling into the second armchair and trying to look as poorly as possible. 

“Look a bit more miserable, Hope,” said Lyall Lupin, amused, “Remus’ friend will see right through that.”

Hope scowled.

“Much better!” said Lyall, and opened the door. “Hello, you must be Sirius.”

Sirius’ hand was still raised, as if he was going to knock a second time. He dropped his hand and placed it in his pocket, looking slightly abashed. “Hello, Mr Lupin,” he said, as he proffered a bouquet of flowers forward with his other hand, “For your wife. I’ve heard she’s unwell.”

“That’s very kind of you,” replied Lyall, looking quietly amused and taking the bouquet from Sirius’ uncertain grasp, “Please, come in.”

“Is Remus here?” said Sirius as he walked through, glancing around, “I came to speak with him actually.”

“He’s here,” said Lyall gently, “But he-”

“Oh, shit,” said Sirius, spotting Remus slouched in the armchair, “Remus?”

Remus waved a hand and sunk further into his chair. “Hi. It’s probably not the best time right now.”

“I can see that,” said Sirius, striding towards him, “What on earth happened?! Oh, hello, Mrs Lupin,” he added, nodding politely to Hope. 

“Hello,” replied Hope croakily, and added a cough for effect.

Sirius seemed to remember why he’d come in the first place, and patted his leather jacket’s pockets, before producing two bright pinks vials. “These are for you, Mrs Lupin. My friend’s an excellent brewer, and her cauldron is top notch, she says apparently you shouldn’t even have the side effects in this batch.”

Hope took them uncertainly. “Thank you, dear.”

“They’re Pepper-Up Potions, mum,” said Remus, leaning over to point out the label, “They’re used to cure the common cold and warm you up.”

“What are the side effects?”

“Steam out of your ears for the next couple of hours.”

Hope laughed, and pushed the vials into her son’s hands. “No, thank you. I’m okay. I’ll mend the muggle way.” 

“Oh!” said Sirius, his face lighting up, “Are you a muggle, Mrs Lupin?”

“I am,” said Hope.

“She is,” said Lyall, at the same time. He continued proudly: “The best damn muggle there is.”

Hope rolled her eyes, but her words were kind. “He has an odd fascination with my lot, goes to a club with that Weasley bloke at work.” 

“I think it’s fascinating too,” said Sirius earnestly, “I took Muggle Studies at Hogwarts to annoy my parents, but it turned out to be my favourite class.”

“Oh, you went to Hogwarts?” said Hope, suddenly interested, “What was it like? I bet it was fun?”

“Hope-” started Lyall uncertainly, “Perhaps we should-”

“No, I’d like to know,” insisted Hope, “Were they inclusive? Did they have many students?”

“I guess,” said Sirius, looking around the room to try to gauge the mood, “Remus, did you not-?”

“No, I didn’t,” replied Remus shortly, “Would you like a cup of tea?” 

“Yes please,” said Sirius, quickly picking up on the change of subject. Remus saw him trying not to look as Lyall ushered his ‘poorly’ wife upstairs, talking quietly under his breath. 

“So,” continued Sirius, apparently keen to continue the conversation now they were alone, “You didn’t go to Hogwarts?”

“I didn’t. We should go out into the garden, it’s a beautiful day today. How long are you planning on staying?” asked Remus, trying his best to be polite and stay off the potentially scandalous subject. He set aside the bag of frozen peas, stood up with creaking knees, and made towards the kitchen to flip the kettle on. 

“How come?” asked Sirius, blatantly ignoring the proper social cues, “And what happened to your face, whilst we’re asking the difficult questions?”

Remus laughed easily. “I got mugged on the way home from work yesterday.” He took stock of Sirius’ shocked expression, and continued hurriedly. “Nothing bad! They just took a tenner out of my wallet, punched me and ran.”

“That’s still bad!” shouted Sirius indignantly, “Did you see their faces? We should report them. Did they have wands or...those metal weapon thingies Muggles use?”

“Guns,” supplied Remus helpfully, “...aren’t usually used over here, there’s laws and stuff. But no, they didn’t have any weapons, they were just, uh, very threatening.” He hoped Sirius wouldn’t ask any more questions; he was far too tired to continue thinking up new lies. “It’s fine, Sirius, really. I’m on the mend.”

Sirius looked unconvinced, but thankfully changed the subject. “So James and I are hosting a little shindig at ours tonight-”

“Sorry, yours? I thought James and Lily surely-”

“Yeah, but they live at James’ parents’ old house, so it’s practically mine too,” said Sirius, waving a hand nonchalantly. 

“Yours-?”

“It doesn’t matter. Point is, are you coming? Peter’s going, and a couple of others from work,” asked Sirius, and quickly adding, “I promise no-one will mug you. I’ll walk you there myself.”

Remus laughed. “I’d be rather unlucky to be mugged two days in a row wouldn’t I.”

“You’re an unlucky chap!” replied Sirius, beaming, “And who better to escort you to the ball than the luckiest sod you know.”

“I’m swooning,” said Remus, grinning, “And you’re blushing!”

“Hah,” said Sirius, suddenly not meeting Remus’ eyes. He ran a hand through his sleek, black hair, then quickly put both hands in his pockets. After a few seconds of awkward, confusing silence, Remus was about to open the cupboards and start organising the tea, but stopped when he felt Sirius look at him again.

“So, are you coming?” he asked pointedly, “Don’t feel obliged, obviously.”

“Oh,” said Remus, unsure as to whether the invitation was still there, “I mean, sure, if you really want me there. I’m free. I won’t stay long, I’m a bit tired, but-”

“Of course I-” started Sirius, and shook his head, “Of course we want you there. Why would I ask you otherwise?”

“Ok, fab,” said Remus, relieved, and fidgeted with the mugs he’d started preparing.

Sirius let out a bark of laughter. 

“You daft sod,” he said fondly, and, perhaps noticing Remus’ wobbly legs, stalked over and laid a hand on his arm. “Maybe you should sit down. I didn’t really want a cup of tea.” 

“Thanks,” muttered Remus, and gently shook Sirius’ hand off him. “I’d best check up on mum, and get ready for tonight’s extravaganza.”

“Sure,” replied Sirius easily, and started to head towards the door purposefully, as if it had been his idea. As he opened the door to leave, he turned back and gave a dazzling grin. “So I’ll see you tonight, Prince Charming. I’ll send the address and time via owl in a bit. Wear your best knick-knacks!”

With that, he stepped outside and Disapparated with a flourish, the air briefly warping with his black leather jacket and denim jeans. 

Remus’ stomach did a strange twist, and he cracked his knuckles, the sound loud in the suddenly empty room. 

“I’d best get ready,” he told himself again, and, leaving the door open, turned to head upstairs to his wardrobe. 

***

It was an extremely humid evening, and Remus was struggling with the heat. He’d rolled up his sleeves and undone his top two buttons, but he could still feel sweat dotting the nape of his neck. He looked up at the sky - it was a dark purple, with heavy grey clouds hiding the almost full moon, though he knew from last night’s transformation that it was a waxing gibbous moon. He’d learnt the moon phases years before the school curriculum taught him, and by now he could name most of the constellations in the sky too. He’d spent years looking up at the sky, waiting for the transformation. Ironically his favourite constellation had always been Sirius, The Dog Star; staring at the brightest star in the galaxy was the only way to ignore the harsh light of the moon. 

Suddenly the door opened, and the human Sirius grinned at him. He was dressed extremely strangely; he’d clearly tried his hardest to look rebellious and rough, but his clothes looked finely made and tailored fit. They hung elegantly off his frame, flattering his angular body. He’d rolled up his own sleeves too, but whereas Remus’ were shoved up his forearms as best as he could manage, Sirius’ were folded up almost perfectly, like he’d been taught the best way to roll up sleeves somehow. 

“Hello!” he said excitedly, cutting through Remus’ thoughts, “You look very dashing.”

Remus smiled weakly; he knew his own clothes were rags compared to the ensemble in front of him. “Hello. This shirt is my dads, so he’ll be very pleased with that compliment.”

Sirius laughed. “He’s got a good style. I love the holes.”

Remus thought this a strange comment, but he didn’t think Sirius meant it to be mean. If anything, Sirius sounded oddly envious. He shrugged. “When you don’t have a big wardrobe, you adapt to whatever style of clothes you have. In my case, it’s holes and patches.” 

Sirius nodded enthusiastically. “I like the bohemian look.” He gestured to his own outfit. “I try my best, but old habits get in the way apparently. James says I should stop trying, and that everything in my collection is still posh, no matter how hard I try.”

“I can take you to a few charity shops, I know some good ones in town that should have pretty much what you’re wearing, but, you know, not cost £200,” suggested Remus, feeling an odd fondness for the man in front of him. 

“£600,” said Sirius nonchalantly.

“Pardon?!”

“£600 for this jacket, £150 for the shirt, and I got the jeans on a good deal,” said Sirius.

Remus was almost too afraid to ask. “How much was the ‘good deal’?”

“Let’s not discuss it,” replied Sirius, grimacing a little. He took Remus by the arm and led him inside. The hallway was dark and empty, but Remus could hear the music thumping in a couple of rooms over. 

“Can I take your coat?” asked Sirius, trying and failing to sound polite, and more like he wanted to hurry up and get back to the party. 

“Yeah, um-” said Remus, and started shrugging out of his patched coat. Sirius took it and threw it over the bannister. “Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome,” replied Sirius distractedly, looking at the corners of the room, then shouted: “WORMTAIL!”

Remus blinked and suddenly there was a short, fat man standing in front of him.

“How did-” he started uncertainly. 

The man opened his mouth to answer, a proud smile playing on his face, but Sirius shoved Remus’ coat at him quickly.

“Don’t flatter him, he’ll only end up boring you,” said Sirius roughly, punching Wormtail on the arm. 

“Hi, I’m Remus, nice to finally meet you properly,” said Remus instead, deciding to ignore this obviously private banter between the two, and holding out a hand.

“Peter,” said the man, muffled beneath the coat. He really was quite short. He grasped Remus’ hand and gave it a quick shake, before jogging up the stairs with the coat, muttering beneath his breath.

“You two seem very fond of each other,” said Remus, trying his best to sound cheeky instead of rude and curious. 

“He’s used to it; James was terrible to him at school,” replied Sirius, looking a bit abashed, but adding, “He doesn’t half make it easy though.”

“Right,” said Remus, “But seriously, how did he just appear like that? I would’ve thought James’ and Lily’s place would have apparitions wards with their child about.”

“They do,” replied Sirius, “Pete’s an Animagus too.”

Remus blinked. “Who else is an Animagus?”

Sirius let out a bark of laughter. “We all are. We all did it after Hogwarts. James is big on transfiguration, and our old professor insisted he’d make a great Animagus, so when he tried, naturally we all followed suit, thinking it’d be a laugh.” He paused, thinking. “Except for Evans, she decided to focus on perfecting her own potions and finding a career, which turned into James wanting us all to go into the industry.” 

“That’s…wow,” said Remus, astounded, “Isn’t it a difficult ritual? To become an Animagus?”

“Eh,” said Sirius, waving a hand, “Pete struggled a bit, but really it was just more time consuming than difficult. The bloody leaf thing was a nightmare too; we couldn’t go drinking for a whole month.” He suddenly stiffened and looked at Remus properly. “Don’t go spreading it around though. We’re not registered, the ministry doesn’t know.”

“Why not?   
  


“We were young, we were mostly messing around until the electrical storm. We’d started over three times due to the clouds on the full moon, and were about to give up until our Divination professor forecast the storm the next month,” said Sirius uneasily, “You’re meant to be trained by a formal teacher and get proper permission before even thinking about starting the ritual, ‘cos it’s dangerous, see. The transformation can get dodgy apparently.”

Remus thought about his own alter ego, and struggled to think how badly an Animagus transformation could go compared to his monthly ones. 

“Didn’t you say your transfiguration professor suggested it though?” asked Remus, a bit perplexed, “Surely she could have signed you off.”

Sirius grinned. “Why on earth would we have asked old Googly’s permission? Breaking the rules was the funnest part!”

“Of course,” said Remus, smiling. He suddenly had a very good picture of teenage Sirius running around Hogwarts, looking for trouble with his friends. 

“Enough reminiscing, let’s go introduce you to people,” said Sirius, briefly touching Remus’ wrist and ushering him further into the house, towards the noise. 

***

After what seemed like hours of introductions, Remus’ social meter was thoroughly depleted. There seemed to be an endless amount of friends, which made sense considering how likable James and Lily were, from all walks of life. Remus had shaken hands with a witch from Russia, a muggle from the local supermarket, and a pickpocket whom he was sure was a wizard from his, admittedly shady, stories. 

“C’mon, Dung, leave us alone,” said Sirius, a scowl on his face, “I’m not carrying anything valuable, I never do around you, you know this.” 

“I wouldn’t do anything anyway!” cried Mundungus, clutching his heart and looking sideways at Remus, “You’re putting me in a terrible light in front of your friend.”

“He doesn’t have anything either.”

“Oh, well, I’ll speak to you boys later,” replied Mundungus cheerfully, and slunk off, presumably to commit some more shady acts.

“Why on earth you’re friends with a thief is beyond me,” remarked Remus, slightly amused (goodness knows he had nothing worth stealing). 

Sirius cocked his head to the side briefly, thinking. “Well, he comes in useful sometimes.”

“That’s...weirdly not that surprising, after everything I’ve learnt about your motley crew.”

Sirius laughed. “Let’s go outside, I’m dying for a smoke.” 

They briskly walked towards the backdoor, Sirius seemingly as eager to get out of the crowds as Remus, and walked into the slightly overgrown garden. Sirius shut the door behind him and settled on the concrete step, blocking the exit. He pulled some papers and a grinder out of his pocket and set about making a joint. Remus looked about for a seat, found none, and instead hovered around the rosebushes awkwardly. 

“Hey, look, I know you’re not a squib,” said Sirius suddenly, “You don’t do much magic, but I’ve seen you cast a few things here and there.”

Remus stared at him, uncertain as to where this was going. “Right.”

“But the magic you do cast is...rusty?” said Sirius, “I know you basically live as a muggle, which is another strange thing, but your magic doesn’t look like you learnt it from textbooks.”

“Well, no,” replied Remus, his tongue feeling oddly loose, “I didn’t go to Hogwarts. I learnt most magic from my dad.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“You know what.”

Remus bit his lip. He desperately wanted to confide in Sirius, to move aside the black curls and whisper his secrets in his ear. It didn’t have to be all of them, just enough to break the barriers between them. But telling one would reveal them all, and he wasn’t ready to lose Sirius’ friendship just yet.

He looked away. “I can’t tell you.”

He heard Sirius inhale softly and settle back, leaning back against the door. Remus fiddled with his cuffs and studied the ground, trying his best to look interested in the moss breaking through the cracks in the concrete. He heard the clink of the grinder dropping onto the concrete, and the rustle of Sirius’ coat as he leaned forwards, and suddenly the atmosphere felt completely different. 

“To be honest, Remus, you don’t have to tell me,” said Sirius softly, “I already know. And I don’t care.”

Remus looked up and met Sirius’ eyes, staring straight at him solemnly. He froze. “What?”

Sirius quirked his mouth upwards. “I know you’re a werewolf.”

Remus’ blood ran cold. “What?”

“It doesn’t matter to me,” said Sirius gently, “If I knew you in Hogwarts, I probably would have gotten a kick out of it then too. I imagine teenage boys would've thought it proper cool.”

“I-I’m not-” started Remus, mouth dry, heart hammering. “I’m not a-”

Sirius actually laughed. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that, right?” The door behind him rattled, and he pressed his back harder against it. “Fuck off!”

Remus could taste copper in his mouth. He shoved his shaking hands into his pockets. For the first time in his life, the Secret was out, and he didn’t know how to process it. His parents had struggled to set stern rules to their toddler, but the repetitions had set in and now Remus couldn’t fathom the absence of secrecy. He stared at Sirius, empty of words, of excuses. 

Sirius wordlessly offered him the joint, and Remus took it like a lifeline. 

“You okay?” asked Sirius slowly, watching.

The smoke curled in the air, stinging Remus’ eyes, and he took a long inhale, coughing when he surfaced. He shook his head, willing the effects to take hold so at least his pulse would calm. He coughed again, then: “I’m okay.” 

Sirius smiled ruefully. “Do you always do that?” He paused, waiting for a reply, but when it became evident that none was coming he continued: “You’re always saying you’re okay, even when James has annoyed you into oblivion. Is it a side effect of lycanthropy?”

Remus choked again. 

“It’s probably just you though, right?” said Sirius, a hopeful smile playing on his face. He was trying to lighten the mood, Remus realised. “You can talk to me, you know, I don’t bite.”

Remus winced, and a look of uncharacteristic panic passed over Sirius’ face.

“Sorry, that was insensitive, I just-”

“It’s fine,” murmured Remus, toying with the joint, “It was funny.”

“...was it?”

“Not really.”

“Oh.”

They sat quietly, letting the background noise of a party wash over the garden. The moon shone menacingly against the dark sky, and Remus wondered if Sirius had looked up last night and thought of him. It was a comforting idea, though he wasn’t sure when he had started needing Sirius’ affection. They were only colleagues, nothing more, but now…he looked up at Sirius through his fringe, and felt his blood go hot again. 

“How did you figure it out?” he asked quietly, the words falling out before he could stop them. 

Sirius looked up, surprised. “Wasn’t it obvious?”

“Nobody else has ever figured it out before, before I-” started Remus, unsure how much he wanted to give to Sirius, when he had already taken so much, “I tend to leave jobs if people get suspicious. I didn’t last long in the Wizarding world. Thankfully muggles are a lot more forgiving.” 

“Makes sense.” 

“That’s the real reason I- you remember, when you asked?” said Remus disjointedly, “When you asked why I’m an editor, why I pretend to be a muggle.”

Sirius nodded. He patiently waited for a moment for Remus to continue. When it became evident nothing was forthcoming, he prompted: “Your mother. You said she enjoyed films. You were home schooled by your dad.”

“Yes, she...she taught me about muggle culture, and my dad taught me about wizarding culture. We moved abroad, you see, when I was bitten. Dad didn’t think it was safe to stay.”

“What did he say would happen?”

Remus swallowed and took another drag of the joint before continuing. “Ostracisation. Bureaucracy.”

“Bureaucracy?”

“There’s a registry,” said Remus, feeling a wash of apathy suddenly, “For werewolves. For their safety, and the safety of everyone around them. Except, it’s a public record. Anyone can look at it.”

“So when people see your name-”

“Registered werewolves rarely have a positive experience in the wizarding world,” finished Remus ruefully. 

Sirius’ face was scrunched. He looked angry. 

“I mean, we’re shunted between the Beast and Being Division every other month, it’s not a surprise that people find us threatening”, said Remus, looking down at the joint and debating another drag. His tongue was dry and his head airy; any more and he’d edge into a bad trip. 

“They shouldn’t,” said Sirius angrily, “Especially not you. They’re scared of the wrong people.”

Remus shrugged, but felt no inclination to debate it. 

Sirius seemed to think for a moment. Then he reached out and took the joint back from Remus, before taking a drag and leaning back against the door. “It’s different now though. The world’s changed since Grindelwald. Only a few pureblood families hold the racist ideologies.” He shook the joint at Remus. “Maybe your dad ran into one of those bastards, got the wrong idea about the rest of us.”

Remus shook his head wordlessly. It wasn’t Sirius’ fault he couldn’t grasp the concept that some people might hate for no reason; he’d clearly been raised as a normal boy in a privileged background, however he spoke about his mother. The clouds in Remus’ head convinced him to say this out loud.

“You don’t get it,” he said, “Not everyone is as lucky as you, Sirius.”

“Lucky?”

“Yeah, you know. Normal childhood, nobody disliking you for being you.”

Sirius looked angrier somehow. “Are you for real?” He took a deep breath, calming himself. “How much do you know about my family?”

  
“Well-”

“Not much, I’m guessing. Because every other magical being knows they’re the epitome of evil. I get people crossing the street when they see me; everyone assumes I’m just as much of an asshole. I grew up in an abusive household, Remus, and I mean abusive. My brother died following their stupid ideologies. The first person who ever saw me for me was James, and he changed my life. When people see me with him, they don’t see the heir of the House of Black, they see me. But even that isn’t enough sometimes,” said Sirius, spitting out his words like lava. “Do you see? I get it, Remus, I really do.”

“That’s not enough,” said Remus, “Not enough at all.”

“You don’t know half of what I’ve been through!” shouted Sirius, suddenly standing. The joint hung loosely from his fingers, sparks dripping off the end. “How on earth do you have this woe is me attitude?! You’re so clever, Remus, surely you know it doesn’t matter what people think. You’re letting your illness hold you back for no reason.”

“Sirius, sit down,” implored Remus, beginning to feel a little scared. He’d never been good at confrontations, especially with someone he cared about. 

“You don’t know what people will say about you, because you’ve never even tried,” growled Sirius, an aristocratic scowl forming on his face. “I get it, it sucks, but people aren’t that observant, Remus. Nobody will find out, and even if they do they won’t care. I don’t care!”

He closed his eyes, scrunching them tightly, and just as suddenly, as if there were no pause:

“Come to dinner with me.”

Remus blinked. “Pardon?”

“Come to dinner with me, please,” repeated Sirius, lighter this time, opening his eyes, “Let me take you to dinner.”

“...You were just yelling at me a second ago, and now you want to take me to dinner?”

“Yeah, I-” started Sirius, looking faintly shocked at himself, “I’m sorry, I can get carried away sometimes. I didn’t mean to shout.”

It might have been the pot, or it might have been the cold air, but a pleasant shiver ran through Remus and he found himself nodding, and continuing to nod. 

“So that’s a yes?” asked Sirius, pulling a strange face that seemed torn between amusement and relief. 

Remus stopped nodding, shook his head and rubbed at his eyes. “I suppose. Bit of a rollercoaster, this conversation.”

“Sorry, I really didn’t mean to shout,” said Sirius, “But my point still stands.”

“And I still disagree.”

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows. “Sure.”

“No, I’m serious,” said Remus, then laughed, “Hah. Great name your parents gave you.”

“Thanks.”

“Sorry, that joint is making me a little loopy,” said Remus, hyper aware of how the fuzz in his head was affecting the conversation.

“Loopy Lupin!”

“You don’t know,” continued Remus, ignoring the interruption, “You really don’t. You’ve had a hard life, I’m not denying that, and I’m sorry you’ve gone through all that. But I _ have _ stepped into the wizarding world, Sirius, and I wasn’t welcome. Muggles don’t question the scars, or the monthly sick days. Wizards do. I didn’t keep a job longer than a few months when I was 18.”

“It’s different now,” insisted Sirius, “I promise you. People don’t care.”

“Okay,” said Remus, unwilling to continue arguing, “So where are you taking me for dinner?”

Sirius suddenly looked nervous. “Just to clarify, this is a date, right? I’m gay, you’re gay, we’re going on a date. It’s not a random dinner. Just to clarify.”

Remus tried his best to pretend to look angry and insulted, he really did, but the facade fell away instantly when Sirius started laughing. 

“You’re ribbing me right?” asked Sirius, grinning, “Not only are you a terrible liar, you’re a terrible actor.”

“You caught me,” said Remus, raising his hands, “Yes, I’m gay. It’s a date. It’s confirmed.”

“Great!”

“Still a very peculiar way to ask someone out.”

“It worked though.”

“It did. Regrettably.”

Sirius laughed, a loud bark like laugh, and suddenly Remus knew instantly what his Animagus was. 

“You’re a dog, right?”

Sirius looked affronted. “Excuse me?”

“Not like-you know! Your Animagus, it’s a dog...right?” said Remus, feeling a faint blush creeping up on his face.

Sirius leaned back and crossed his arms, grinning. “Very perceptive. How’d you figure?”

“It just makes sense,” said Remus, shrugging, and smiled. It made an awful lot of sense to him - loyal, smart, eager to please. He suddenly thought back to Sirius, The Dog Star, and keeled over laughing.

“What is it?” asked Sirius, bending down, laughing along, “Have you thought of the fleas? Because really, they’re the worst bit.”

Remus laughed harder, and suddenly the tightness in his chest lifted, and the moon ducked behind clouds, and the absence of secrets didn’t feel so bad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! It's hard getting back into writing; I'm pretty sure this is the longest fic I've written since I was about 15! 
> 
> Just one last chapter to round it up - The Big Date That Is Definitely A Date, Just To Clarify.


End file.
